


Home Away from Home

by thundercaya



Series: Exterminator!Steve [5]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Desert Bluffs, M/M, Memory Loss, Strexcorp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 14:04:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thundercaya/pseuds/thundercaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Strex doesn't care who you are or where you're from, as long as you work hard and have a can-do attitude."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Open Yoour Door, I'll be Your Tenant

Steve knew he should go right to the police, but some part of him told him it was a terrible, terrible idea. While he felt an old instinct to trust the police, he also felt a newer one, a much more salient one, urging him not to. Instead he approached the nearest shop. He pulled open the door, then let it close again. He could have sworn that the people inside who turned to look at him had black eyes and eerie smiles, and that every surface was covered in blood and viscera. He shook himself. The heat, he reasoned. Dehydration. He took a deep breath and tried the door again. Still there. All of it. He let the door close again and passed out.

"Hey," came a voice, distant as Steve came to. "Hey, friend, are you all right?"

Steve opened his eyes and found a man kneeling over him, a broad smile on his face even as his brow furrowed with something like concern. The eyes caught between the conflicting expressions were coal black. Steve considered trying to run, but he wasn't even sure he could get up. Besides, he was more thirsty than scared, and the man was offering him a bottle of water.

"I'm fine," he said. He let the man help him into a sitting position and noticed he'd been moved to the shade. "Uh, quick question," Steve said, taking a drink. "What color are my eyes?"

"They are a gorgeous chestnut brown."

So Steve wasn't just misremembering that people weren't supposed to have black eyes.

"Okay, now do me," the man said.

"Uh.... Black."

The main raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"As... a lost human soul." Steve winced; he probably should have been a bit less honest. But instead of being angry, the man giggled.

"You're funny. I'm Kevin. What's your name, friend?"

"Steve. I don't, uh, remember my last name. Or much of anything, really."

"Spent too much time out in the sun?"

"Maybe."

Kevin stood and helped Steve to his feet.

"Do you have somewhere to go?" Kevin asked.

"I... don't know," Steve said.

"Do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

Steve winced. "I'm not so sure there's anything they can do for me. Also I don't know how I'd pay for it. Or, uh, anything, really. I don't have any money."

"That's quite the predicament, friend," Kevin said. "But I think I can help."

"You've helped a lot already," Steve said. "And I appreciate it. I don't want to bother you anymore than I have to."

"It's fine," Kevin assured. "I'm not busy at all today. I came into town to see if anyone could use any help. How lucky for both of us! My car is this way. Come on."

"Where are we going?" Steve asked, climbing into the car. He still didn't feel entirely safe with his guy, but truly, how much worse off was he compared to being by himself among all those equally strange, black-eyed smilers?

"To StrexCorp's local headquarters to get you a job."

"A... job?" Steve asked. "That sounds kind of permanent."

"Well, as far as your memory goes, I don't think there's any forcing it," Kevin explained as he drove. "We'll get you a notebook so you can write down anything you happen to remember, and maybe it'll all come together in a big, beautiful picture. In the meantime, you'll need a place to stay. You can stay with me, which will cost you less than a hotel, but you'll still need to compensate me, hence a job. Does that sound all right?"

"It sounds insanely generous of you," Steve said. He instantly regretted his word choice, but Kevin didn't seem to notice. "I, uh, really don't want you to trouble yourself."

"It's really no trouble," Kevin insisted. "I love helping people."

Steve didn't argue anymore. What else was he going to do?

***

Steve spent much of the drive watching Kevin's profile. Of course they hadn't met before, or Kevin would have surely mentioned it, but something about his face was so familiar. Not the color of his eyes, of course, or that ever-present smile. Maybe it was the shape of his nose, his eyebrows, his hairline. Steve really wasn't sure.

"You sure are staring a lot," Kevin noted, glancing at Steve when they reached a stop light.

Steve averted his gaze, embarrassed at being caught. "You look familiar," he muttered.

" _Like your dead girlfriend_ ," Kevin sang.

" _Only when you smile but I'm sure I've seen you somewhere else._ Wait, what was that? Why did I know that?"

"That was _Rent_ ," Kevin said, smile growing broader. "And you probably know it because you like musicals. That's wonderful. I like them, too. Make sure you write that down once we get you that notebook."

***

"Listen, I should have mentioned this before," Steve said, climbing out of Kevin's car, "I don't have any proof of citizenship. Or, uh, that I even actually exist. I don't think anyone'll hire me."

"That's all right, friend," Kevin assured. "Strex doesn't care who you are or where you're from, as long as you work hard and have a can-do attitude. You will need a last name, though. Doesn't have to be yours, strictly. Just something for them to write in the books. Do you want some help coming up with one?"

"Uh...no," Steve said. "How about... Masters."

"Oh!" Kevin said. "Steve Masters! I like it." He led Steve inside. "Hi Magdalicia!" he greeted the receptionist. There was viscera strewn about her desk.

"Hello Kevin, good to see you!" Magdalicia said brightly. "You don't have an appointment."

"I know, and I'm terribly sorry to be an inconvenience," Kevin said, "but this is an emergency. Can I please see Elena?"

***

Steve tried to keep a polite smile on his face as Kevin explained the situation, but his mouth refused to hold the expression, probably figuring that the others in the room were each smiling enough for all of them put together, to say nothing of the blood all over the floor and walls of the office. Elena agreed to give Steve a try and sent him off with Magdalicia to the sorting room, whatever that was.

"Tell me the truth, Kevin," Elena said when the other two were gone. "Do you really think he'll be valuable to Desert Bluffs and StrexCorp or do you just fancy him?"

"Can it be both?" Kevin asked.

"Sure," Elena said, "but only because you're adorable."

"Knowing my strengths is one of my strengths," Kevin said.

A moment later, the phone on Elena's desk rang. She answered it on speaker.

"This is Elena."

"Elena, Steve passed out," Magdalicia said.

"Oh! Maybe I should have fed him first," Kevin said.

"It's better that you didn't," Magdalicia said. "He did quite a bit of dry-heaving first."

"We'll be right there, Madga," Elena said.

***

Magdalicia was standing outside of the sorting facility and she pointed to where Steve was standing with his forehead pressed against the wall, breathing heavily.

"Hey friend," Kevin said, approaching Steve and putting a hand on his shoulder. "What happened?"

"They... they wanted me to sort through organs...." Steve said. He looked at Kevin. " _With my hands_."

"Well, of course!" Kevin said. "Organs don't sort themselves."

"Where do they even come from?" Steve asked.

"Need-to-know, friend," Kevin said. "And you don't need to know."

"Is this... normal?" Steve asked. "I really-- It feels really wrong."

"Well, it's not exactly normal," Kevin said. "But it's not _abnormal_ either. Strex has graciously selected our town to test all their latest technology, so wherever you came from is probably quite different, but that doesn't mean there's anything _wrong_ with it."

"I... I guess..." Steve said, pushing his hair back. "But I don't think I...."

"That's all right, friend!" Kevin assured, clapping Steve's shoulder. "It's not for everyone. Maybe something a little less hands-on. Can you drive stick?"

***

A couple minutes playing with the clutch and Steve discovered that he did in fact know how to drive stick. He was set up with a short delivery route to get him through the rest of the day and Kevin set off to his own job, hosting the community radio show. The streets were set up in a very intuitive manner, so there was little risk of getting lost. Steve tried not to think about the fact that the barrels he was delivering were full of innards, but the smell coming from the cargo area of the box truck made it difficult, as did the fact that every location he delivered to seemed to already have an abundance. He considered just driving away, but he wouldn't know which way to go and they hadn't set him loose with an excess of gas. And part of him didn't want to disappoint Kevin after he'd been so kind. And trusting--since Steve would be off of work before his show ended, Kevin had given him his address _and_ the key to his apartment.

***

Steve stood at the door of Kevin's apartment for a moment, a bit afraid to open it. If it were just as littered with organs and soaked with blood as the other places he'd been that day, he wouldn't be able to stay there. He shut his eyes and pushed. Opening them cautiously, he saw that the apartment looked perfectly normal in the light from the hallway. He felt along the wall until he found a switch, and even in full light, he couldn't see anything unusual. Steve let out the breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding and shut the door behind him.


	2. You Can't Call it Cheatin'--He Reminds Me of You

Steve was seated on Kevin's couch staring at what he'd written in his notebook when the doorbell rang.

"Steve, it's me!" Kevin said through the door, chipper as ever. Steve let him in. "Hello Steve! How delightful to see you. What is that amazing smell?"

"Oh, uh...." Steve gestured to the kitchen. "Apparently I know how to cook, so I thought I'd make you dinner. I hope that's okay. I put everything right back where I found it."

"Okay?" Kevin asked, walking to the stove and uncovering a pot of penne Alfredo. "It's better than okay. That's so sweet of you. Thank you so much. Did you want me to serve you?"

"I already ate," Steve said, scratching the back of his head. "I couldn't wait. Sorry."

"No need to be sorry, friend," Kevin said, serving himself. "You had quite a day. I'm sure you needed it." He took a seat at the table and gestured for Steve to join him. Kevin took a bite and grinned. "Oh! This is fantastic, Steve! Thank you again."

"Least I could do," Steve shrugged. "So, uh, I wanted to ask you something."

Kevin took another bite and looked at him expectantly.

"How come you don't have any, uh... organs. Here in your place? I mean besides yours of course."

"Oh, that's simple," Kevin said. "StrexCorp is getting more and more efficient at production, but their products are still too expensive for anything other than industrial use. However, they _were_ generous enough to gift everyone in town one of their high-efficiency AC units--" Kevin gestured to said unit, mounted in his wall "--as a token of good will when they moved in. It was really great of them, considering how important Air Conditioning is in a desert town. They could have made a killing selling them to us."

***

When he was finished with his meal, Kevin relocated to the couch and gestured for Steve to join him.

"Now then, Steve, tell me about your day. Did you remember anything wonderful? Was work fantastic?"

"Uh.... I remembered a lot of what I think are showtunes and what's probably 80's music, assuming I remembered what 80's music sounds like. Also my favorite color is tan."

"Like sand!" Kevin said excitedly. "Oh, you must love living in the desert!"

"I'll let you know," Steve said. "As for work, fantastic isn't the word I'd use. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate that you got me a job, and I'm not saying I won't do it. It's just the smell. God, just the smell of rotting flesh in my nose the whole time. And in my mouth. I could _taste_ the smell."

"It shouldn't be rotting," Kevin said. "Maybe you need to drive faster, friend."

Steve pursed his lips and tilted his head. "I don't think that would--"

"I'm kidding, Steve!" Kevin said. So hard to tell when he always wore the same smile. "Don't worry about the smell. That's just success. But being serious now, I think I know what'll make you feel better."

"A can-do attitude?" Steve asked dryly.

"Yes, of course," Kevin said. "It comes to everyone eventually, and when it does it'll be as natural as breathing air. Until then, one of the best ways to unwind after a tough day of working your very hardest is to have an orgasm. And I'm more than willing to help."

"I--oh!" Steve's face went red. "That's... direct."

"Directness is efficient," Kevin said.

Kevin's smile was far from seductive, but Steve had a feeling that even if he _could_ remember the last time he'd had sex he'd still have trouble remembering _when_ it had been. Besides, he'd said yes to everything else today, and he wasn't dead yet.

"Uh... sure!" Steve said. "That sounds... great."

"Great!" Kevin said. He pushed Steve back across the couch and undid his belt.

"Whoa, uh.... Getting right to it, huh?"

Kevin grinned up at him then opened Steve's pants and freed him from his underwear. "Let me know immediately if my performance is subpar and I'll take measures to improve it," Kevin said. He stroked Steve's arousal to life then took Steve into his mouth.

Steve pushed his fingers through Kevin's hair, the texture of it strangely familiar under his touch. He leaned his head back, trying not to move his hips too much and resisting the urge to push Kevin's head further down.

"Oh...," he moaned as Kevin did something particularly nice. "Cecil...."

Kevin stopped and Steve's eyes snapped open. He looked down at Kevin, who smiled up at him.

"Kevin, I--"

"Who's Cecil?"

"I, uh, I don't know. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"It's all right, Steve," Kevin said brightly. "Remembering things is good news! And whoever he is, he must have made you very happy for you to remember him now."

"I, uh, I guess...." Steve said.

Kevin stood up, and thinking that was the end of that, Steve moved to put himself away. He stopped when Kevin began removing his own pants. Realizing that Kevin intended to go on despite the slip, Steve shimmied out of his clothes. Kevin climbed onto Steve, spreading his legs over his lap.

"Don't you need--" Steve began, but he cut off as Kevin came down around him. "Oh, fuck." The way Kevin was --still--smiling as he rode Steve, hands on his chest, was decidedly unsexy, but the way he was moving felt unbelievable. Steve grabbed Kevin's hips and closed his eyes, thrusting up into him. Much better.

"Oh... Strex!" Kevin cried out, jarring Steve enough for him to open his eyes. However, he didn't have the time to be turned off, because when he saw Kevin's face the smile was gone, replaced by a look of slack-jawed ecstasy.

"Shit," Steve muttered, and he took hold of Kevin's cock to see what other expressions he could get out of the man.

"Oh, golly!" Kevin moaned before biting his lip and rocking faster. "Oh, Strex. Oh, Steve! Oh--!"

He came over both of them, opening his eyes as Steve continued to thrust up into him. Kevin smiled again and wrapped his hands around Steve's throat. Steve stopped thrusting immediately, but Kevin continued to rock his hips. Steve's hands went for Kevin's, but before he could even try to pry them off, his orgasm ripped through him and Kevin let go on his own. Steve took a gasping breath, rubbing his neck, Kevin still on him.

"What. The hell. Was that?"

"Oh, _Steve_ ," Kevin crooned, leaning in to plant kisses on Steve's face. "You made me feel so good, I just couldn't help myself. I had to give you a great big hug."

"That wasn't a--" Why was he trying to argue when he had _liked_ it? "Okay."

***

Of course Carlos felt some natural concern for the fact that Steve was apparently missing, but he had to assume--and Cecil was also quick to say it--that he had been picked up for the re-education he'd practically asked for by allowing Carlos into his home. Bella was with their daughter, begrudgingly of course, like she always was when Steve disappeared, so Carlos wasn't need there. Since he couldn't do anything to help Steve personally, Carlos simply continued his work, which included watching the video he and Steve had made. He couldn't remember having ever made it, or the conversation therein, but that was fine. He had the information _now_ even if he didn't remember getting it. It wasn't until Steve was going on his third day missing that Carlos really began to worry, especially when he went out to lunch with Cecil and spotted a truck belonging to an exterminator that wasn't Steve.

"Cecil, look at that," Carlos said, gesturing towards the truck. Cecil glanced over. The truck read "EXpress EXterminator", the words stacked and sharing the EX. A young Asian man had climbed out and was going through the equipment in the back.

"Oh," Cecil said, frowning. "That's, uh... different." All the times that Steve had disappeared before, no one had ever called in a replacement, temporary or otherwise.

"Come on, Cece, let's go talk to him," Carlos said, grabbing Cecil's arm and pulling him across the street. "Uh, hi there!" Carlos called. The young man turned and looked at him. According to the nametag sewed onto his shirt his name was Thang. "You're, uh... an exterminator?"

Thang looked at his truck, looked at his uniform, looked at the bug sprayer in his hand, and looked at Carlos. "You figure that out all on your own, genius? I guess that explains the lab coat."

"Don' t talk to Carlos that way," Cecil said. "He's the smartest person in town."

Thang gave the same look to Cecil. "Buddy, if that's true, I wouldn't advertise it."

Cecil started to reply again, but Carlos lifted his hand to silence him.

"How long are you in town?" Carlos asked.

Thang sighed deeply. "Listen, as much as I'd love to chat, some of us have work to do, so why don't you can it, eh Rico Suave?"

"Fine," Carlos said. "Have fun with the spider rats."

"Can you believe that?" Cecil asked, glowering as they walked toward Carlos' car.

"Right?" Carlos said. "He doesn't look old enough to drink, much less know that reference."

"No, I mean, how is it possible that he's an even bigger jerk than Steve Carlsberg?"

"Because Steve's not that much of a jerk. Now come on, we should see if Bella knows anything."

***

"Caaaarloooooos," Cecil whined as the two of them made their way to Steve's door. "Why are we doing this?"

"Because it's my fault," Carlos said.

"No it isn't," Cecil sighed. "If he didn't get in trouble over this it would be something else. Besides, we're supposed to be on a date."

"Well, maybe this will be an adventure," Carlos said, ringing the bell. "That's kind of like a date, right?"

"No!" Cecil said. "No it's not!"

Bella answered the door, no hint of even the fake smile she'd used when meeting Carlos the first time. Or the only time, according to the memories that hadn't been taken from him.

"Oh, it's you," she said. "I hope you're here with an apology so that I can reject it."

Carlos winced. "Well, yes, I do feel pretty awful about this whole thing."

"Eh, he deserved it," Bella shrugged, waving them inside. "I just wish the kid would come to my place so I wouldn't have to stay in this stuffy house. You know what the first thing I did was, when I got here? I got rid of the decorative hand towels. Why even have those?"

"Oh my GOD," Cecil said. "Right?"

"Then I went to the fridge and moved everything."

"Oh! Yes!"

"Then I took his car to the car wash and had it washed, _and_ had new hubcaps put on."

"Oh, for real though!" Cecil said. "How can a guy who is so persnickety about everything else not take care of his fucking car?"

"Well, the way he explained it to me--" Carlos began, but Cecil cut him off.

"It's because he's stupid, honey." He took hold of Bella's hand, smiling. "Bella, dear, why aren't you and I the very best of friends?"

"Because, sweetheart," Bella said with a smile, "you talk too much and I can hardly stand you."

Cecil's smile dropped and he let go of her hand.

"Uh, anyway...." Carlos said. "I was just wondering, seeing as you'd become Stella's guardian in the event that, uh, Steve was permanently detained, or, uh, worse... has the government told you officially that that's the case?"

"Oh, why'd you have to go and say that?" Bella asked, pressing her hand to her forehead. "'Stella's guardian.' I don't know what I'm going to do with this kid."

"Well, uh, she's your daughter, so...."

"Yes, my daughter, that my idiotic ex-husband ruined. Do you know she's been in her room crying?"

"Well, uh, it's understandable that she'd be upset--"

"Why?" Bella asked. "People go missing and die all the time. She's killed people. This shouldn't bother her beyond a passing regret."

"It's her father," Carlos said.

"And? My father's been missing for twenty years. Do you see me crying about it?"

"She has a point, honey," Cecil said.

"Well, if you're so against the way Steve raised her, you could have been more involved," Carlos said.

Bella narrowed her eyes. "Don't act like you know what you're talking about, Scientist," she said. "You have no idea. I don't have time for... ballet practice and theater rehearsals and recitals and plays and PTA meetings. It's not what I was born to do. And you know what?" She glanced around until she found her purse. "I'm not going to do any of those things. Not any longer than I have to." She pulled out a notebook and a pen.

"Why do you have a pen?" Cecil asked.

"I don't," Bella said, hurriedly writing on three sheets of paper before tearing them out and folding them in half. "And I'm not giving you these." She handed the sheets over. "And I'm not telling you to bring Steven back before the baby bug-killer tries to leave tomorrow and finds out he can't. Now get out of here and fix this." She opened the door and ushered them out.

Carlos and Cecil said nothing on the walk back to the car. Once inside, Carlos glanced around before unfolding the sheets of paper. The first two had their names with "Desert Bluffs" written underneath. The third one said "Thang Doan, Hometown."

"Exit visas," Carlos whispered. "How can she--"

" _No_ ," Cecil groaned, sinking low in his seat. "Not Desert Bluffs! This is the worst date ever!"

***

Rather than driving straight into Desert Bluffs, Carlos drove Cecil out by the Whispering Forest, where it wasn't likely that anyone would be listening to them.

"Do you think Bella is Secret Police?" Cecil asked. "She has a _pen_. And she used it to write _visas_. I can't think of any other explanation for it."

"It would make sense," Carlos said. "I hope this means we won't get into too much trouble for all of this. So, what do you know about Desert Bluffs?"

"That it's dumb," Cecil said, sitting low in his seat, arms crossed. "And stupid. And totally lame."

"Right," Carlos said, rolling his eyes. "Anything else?"

"It's a two-hour drive."

"Then we can't go right now," Carlos said. "It would be dark on the way back and the sand sharks would be out."

"Well, now that _that's_ settled," Cecil said, sitting up higher, "can we _please_ have a real date?"

***

Steve gave up on trying to remember who that "Cecil" guy was--every time he tried, the only face that came to mind was Kevin's. He'd told Kevin so and the other man had been pleased.

"As much as I wish you could remember everything," he said, "I'm delighted to be associated with someone who was most likely a very important person in your life."

***

Steve was beginning to get used to the smell, and to the sloshing sound behind him when he braked too hard. He was getting used to the black eyes and the unwavering smiles of everyone in town. He wasn't getting used to the piles of entrails and pools of blood inside of every building. He still wanted to know where it all came from, and Kevin still wouldn't tell him.

Another issue was that the barrels leaked. Steve would open the back of the truck and blood and bile would trickle out. He'd pick up a barrel and aforementioned fluids would smear onto his clothes. He mentioned it to Magda (since he couldn't speak directly to Elena) and she assured him that new barrels had already been ordered; he'd just have to make do for now. Make do--Steve was sure he had to have some sort of blood-borne disease by now, though Kevin insisted that everything was perfectly clean.

After managing to drip some blood down his shirt collar, Steve was ready to scream and smash the nearest shop window with the offending barrel. Instead he shook off the repulsed feeling and continued with his day. Kevin would make him feel better later. He always did.


	3. You Can Take the Theorist out of the Conspiracy, but You Can't Take the Conspiracy out of the Theorist

Steve took a particularly long shower and didn't bother getting dressed after--now that they both had a key to the apartment, he didn't have to answer the door for Kevin. He was seated on the couch when Kevin arrived.

" _Well_ ," Kevin said, seeing Steve there and shutting the door. "That's something nice to come home to."

"I made macaroni salad if you're hungry," Steve said, still not getting up. "Or we can skip to desert. Whatever you want."

"I think it's pretty obvious what _you_ want, friend," Kevin said playfully, approaching the couch. "And not just because of the cold dinner."

Steve pulled Kevin onto his lap, pressing kisses to his neck. "You're the one who told me directness was efficient," he murmured.

"Mm, that's true," Kevin said. "I have to warn you, though. I won't be at top performance seeing as I already had sex not an hour ago."

"You... what?" Steve asked, looking up at Kevin. "You cheated on me? Wait, you're _telling_ me that you cheated on me?"

"Oh, aren't you precious," Kevin said, tapping Steve's nose. "Of course I didn't cheat on you, friend. That implies monogamy."

Steve frowned.

"Oh dear. Don't tell me you thought...."

"I thought it was implied, yes," Steve said.

"Oh, Steve," Kevin said. "I'm flattered that you want to keep me all to yourself, but monogamy is so... inefficient. If someone is aroused and has to wait until they're with a certain someone to relieve themselves, they're going to be very distracted."

"Sure," Steve said, "but that makes it feel all the better when they finally can."

"True as that may be," Kevin countered, " _nothing_ feels better than being productive. Everything works so much better when everyone can sleep with whoever they want."

Steve covered his face with his hands. "Oh, God," he muttered. "It's like _Brave New World_ with more organs."

"Did you read that book?" Kevin asked. "I never did."

"Yeah, I think so," Steve said, perking up. He gestured toward his notebook. Kevin grabbed it and a pen off the coffee table and handed it to him. "Let's see, it was in high school. Freshman...." Steve's eyes widened. "High school freshman. Stella is a high school freshman."

"Who--"

Steve stood up quickly, shoving Kevin off in the process.

"My daughter!"

"You have a daughter?" Kevin asked, picking himself up off the floor. "That's wonderful!"

"No, it's not wonderful!" Steve said, disappearing into the bedroom and emerging with the clothes he'd worn that day. "She's been without me this whole time!"

"Whoa whoa, slow down there, friend!" Kevin said, going to Steve and taking the clothes from his arms. "You still don't know where you're from, so where are you running off to? Besides, I'm sure she's fine! She has to have a mother, right?"

"I... I don't know," Steve said. "I don't remember her."

"Well, even if she doesn't, I'm sure your town is taking care of her."

"You think so?"

"Of course! What kind of sick town would leave a kid all on their own? Come back to the couch, Steve. Or better yet, come to bed. Let me take your mind off of it."

***

"I'm very sorry you were upset yesterday," Kevin said over breakfast, though he didn't look anything other than cheerful. "I don't want you to think that me having sex with other people means that you're not very special and dear to me. To show you exactly how I feel, I'd like to share something with you that I don't usually share with people. I want you to see my fan emails."

***

"A lot of people write into your show," Steve said, flipping through the thick stack of printed emails that Kevin handed him.

"I know, it's really wonderful of them," Kevin gushed. "We do give out prizes to listeners, courtesy of StrexCorp, but I like to think that everyone would listen anyway. I've read some of these emails on the show, but I just don't have the airtime for all of them. Still, I appreciate each and every one of them."

Steve was skimming through the emails when one of them made him do a double-take. He read it again. And again.

_The sandstorm is clearly a cover-up. I believe this was a government-created project. Our government has long been participating in cloud-seeding experiments, and trying to suppress the people with pharmaceuticals._

"This email," Steve said, looking up at Kevin. "It's familiar."

"That one I did read," Kevin said. "I wonder if you got our station where you're from."

"I... must have," Steve said. "But I don't think I just heard you read it. I... I think I _wrote_ it."

"Oh!" Kevin said, eyebrows lifting in delighted surprise. "You're Steve _Carlsberg_! Oh, Steve, when I read your email, I guessed you were a great guy! How wonderful that I've met you in person and now know for sure!"

Steve was looking at the email again.

"Night Vale. So I'm from Night Vale. Is that far from here?"

"Not terribly," Kevin said. "But it doesn't matter. You can't go there."

"What?" Steve looked at him again. "You're.... You've been keeping me here?"

"Not _me_ ," Kevin said. "StrexCorp. You saw their tech. They can't have you leaking trade secrets to competitors, now can they? The other option would have been to get rid of you, but that's not very nice, so they don't like default right to that. Strex likes to give everyone the chance to show that they can be valuable. I did put in a good word for you."

"So you never wanted me to remember anything," Steve said accusingly.

"No, no, Steve, I did," Kevin insisted. "I still do. For your own sake and happiness. So you don't feel so lost and unsure. I'm sorry you can't leave, but I don't want you to be unhappy. I would never want that."

"I.... Can I be alone for a while?" Steve asked.

"Of course, friend," Kevin said, taking the stack of emails from Steve, minus his own. "Just make sure you're not late for work. And don't forget, your gas won't last forever and you won't get very far on foot, so don't even try." He kissed Steve's temple. "I'll see you tonight."

***

Steve continued to stare at the email after Kevin left. There it was. His real name. His real town. And knowing these things did him absolutely no good. And what about the email itself? Was this why he was here in Desert Bluffs instead of in Night Vale? Because he'd been trying to uncover a government plot? If so, had they known they were sending him somewhere with its own plot? Trade Secrets indeed! He probably couldn't leave because he was the only one in town who'd think to tell nearby authorities that Desert Bluffs was littered with innards. Everyone else was too busy smiling and... being suppressed with pharmaceuticals.

That would explain it, wouldn't it? Everyone's unwavering smiles and unending cheerfulness. The blackness of their eyes. Their acceptance of their gut-strewn town and bloody existence. He thought about what Kevin said about a can-do attitude.

_"As natural as breathing air."_

Steve found a screwdriver and opened up the AC unit. He wasn't an expert--or if he was, he didn't remember--but he was pretty sure that out of everything he found inside, the thing that didn't belong was a sheet of a gel substance, like a plug-in air freshener.

"Hello, what's this?"

***

Carlos and Cecil made the drive out to Desert Bluffs in Carlos' hybrid, because Cecil didn't want the tires of his car to touch the roads in that town. They didn't have a plan as to how they would _find_ Steve, but they figured they could just ask around. Check the police station, maybe the hospital. They were on their way there when Cecil spotted Steve--who of course had no choice but to not be late for work--unloading a barrel from the truck.

"Carlos!" Cecil exclaimed. "Look, there he is!"

Carlos pulled over and climbed out of his car. Cecil, being closer, got to Steve first.

"Steve," he said. "There you--"

Steve looked up when he heard his name, and when he saw Cecil's face, his eyes lit up with recognition. "Cecil!" Steve dropped the barrel, then grabbed Cecil and pulled him into a tight embrace. Carlos reached a hand as if to stop him, then just put it to his forehead.

Cecil struggled in Steve's grip. "Steve Carlsberg! What are you doing?"

"Uh...." Steve let him go and Cecil moved behind Carlos. "So you're _not_ my boyfriend?"

" _No_."

"Are you sure?" Steve asked, resting his cheek on his hand. "Because I'm remembering some things that don't make a lot of sense if you're not my boyfriend."

"He's your _ex_ -boyfriend, Steve," Carlos said covering his face.

"Oh," Steve said. "That actually makes _more_ sense. And who are you?"

"How does it make--" Cecil began, but Carlos cut him off.

"I'm Carlos. His boyfriend, your friend."

"Oh! Do you know my daughter, then?" Steve asked. "Is she all right?"

"Well, she's sad you're gone," Carlos said. "But she's not hurt or in any kind of trouble. Are, uh, are _you_ hurt? Your clothes are covered in blood."

"Oh," Steve said, looking down at his shirt. "That's not mine."

"Your neck is all bruised up."

"Oh, that?" Steve averted his gaze and scratched the back of his head. "That's... from sex."

"STEVE CARLSBERG!" Cecil shouted.  "I don't want to hear about your rough, dirty, sex life!" His eyes widened with realization and then narrowed. "Wait, you thought I was your boyfriend and you had sex with someone else? You cheated on me? In theory?!"

"To be fair, I didn't remember you until I saw you," Steve shrugged. "And if it helps at all, he looks just like you."

Cecil paled. " _What_? Exactly like me, or...?"

"Well, he smiles more. And his eyes are black. Everyone's eyes are black around here."

"Carlos, we need to leave," Cecil said, tugging the scientist's arm. "Now."

"What is it, babe?" Carlos asked, glancing over his shoulder at Cecil.

"My... my double, he's-- Steve Carlsberg, you had sex with my double? You had _kinky_ sex with my _double_?"

"Oh, God, what is my life?" Carlos groaned. "All right, you know what, forget it. None of that matters. Come with us, Steve. We're taking you home."

"I can't leave," Steve said.

"You're captive?" Carlos asked.

"Yeah, but--"

"So it's a two-part rescue. Let's go before someone sees us."

"It's not that," Steve said. "I can't just leave. Desert Bluffs needs my help."

Cecil groaned. "Don't tell me you have some crazy theory about--"

"You see these barrels?" Steve said, indicating the one he'd dropped and the truck full of them. "They're full of organs. No one will tell me what kind, so probably human. Here's what I think is happening."

"Here we go," Cecil said, rolling his eyes.

"I think Desert Bluffs is a dumping ground for dead bodies. Gangsters and whatnot pay StrexCorp to dispose of bodies and they do it by disassembling them and scattering the parts through the town. Their products run on it. I don't know, it's weird, but it seems to actually work. The citizens don't realize there's anything wrong with this because they've been drugged. I don't know enough to study the nature of the drug, but it seems to be slow-acting, and probably has to accumulate in the system over time before it takes effect. I know this because it hasn't gotten me yet. It's in the air-conditioning units that StrexCorp comped to everyone in town. I took one apart and I found it."

"Do you have it with you?" Carlos asked.

Steve went to the truck and took it out of the glove box.

"Can I take it?" Carlos asked. "I'll study it."

"Are you qualified to do that?" Steve asked.

"Of course," Carlos said. "I'm a scientist."

"In that case, go ahead. In the meantime I have to stay here or they'll know something's up."

***

"I can't believe we drove all the way to Desert Bluffs and we didn't even get Steve back," Cecil said. "I can't believe I'm _upset_ that we didn't get Steve back."

"We'll get him back," Carlos assured. "But if what he thinks is happening is actually happening, someone does have to stop it."

***

"You've been acting strange, friend," Kevin said over the dinner he'd cooked himself because Steve hadn't done so.

"Did you expect me not to?" Steve asked.

"I'll admit it's not an ideal situation," Kevin said, "but you'll warm up to it eventually. I'm just surprised that you haven't yet."

 _Steve_ had a pretty good idea of why he hadn't. He spent most of his day in a car and outdoors, and was really only at the apartment at night when the AC was usually turned off. If Kevin didn't know he was drugged, then of course he wouldn't know that the problem was that Steve _wasn't_.

"If you want me to take your mind off of it...."

"No, that's all right," Steve said.

"You're angry with me."

"Yeah," Steve said. "A bit." He wasn't really--it wasn't Kevin's fault he was a drugged-up mind slave--but agreeing with that was better than saying _I ran into my ex-boyfriend today and it turns out you're his double, so it's kind of weird now_. _Also, you're a drugged up mind-slave, how do I even know you actually want it?_

"I do hope you come around soon, Steve," Kevin said. "We were having such a good time before."


	4. Out of the Frying Pan and into the Garbage Disposal

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DIDN'T BRING STEVEN BACK?" Bella demanded.

"Something came up," Carlos explained. "We need some time to-"

"VOID, he uncovered something _there_ , didn't he? I don't understand his need to pry into every goddamn thing."

"It seemed pretty important."

"It doesn't matter," Bella said. "If the bug kid tries to leave and can't, he'll know too much and we won't be able to send him away. Then there's no reason to let Steve come back. If the kid leaves successfully, they'll just call in someone else and they'll keep a better eye on this one to _make sure_ they get him."

"Well what if I--" Carlos almost volunteered himself to do the necessary jobs until Steve came back, but he had the Strex drug to deal with. "Uh...."

"I already have a job," Cecil shrugged.

"I'll do it."

The three adults turned toward the hallway where Stella was standing.

"Dad went over it all with me. He wanted me to know his equipment was dangerous and not to be played with. Only made me want to play with it more, but I think I know enough."

"You can't drive the truck," Carlos said.

"Who says I can't?"

"Hell, I can't even drive stick," Carlos muttered. "What about school?"

"What about it?" Stella asked. "If my teachers drop my grades, I'll put bees in their cars."

"That's my girl!" Bella said. "All right, you two get the kid his visa. Also, at the end of his job they'll give him water. Don't let him drink it."

***

"Well, the water explains something I've been wondering about," Carlos said as he drove to where Thang was working. "Steve said he drove for three days trying to leave Night Vale, but there's no way his gas would have lasted that long. What if he only thought he was driving, but he was really just sitting in his car?"

"Well, that would explain why he didn't know he was shitting his pants," Cecil said. "Though I wouldn't be surprised if he shits his pants on a regular basis."

"Cecil."

"Carlos."

They found Thang loading up his truck, a bottle of water sitting on the hood.

"I'll take care of the visa," Cecil said. "I have a trick I learned from Steve Carlsberg."

Thang heard them approaching and looked up from his work.

"Well," he said. "Enrique Iglesias and Anna Kournikova. We meet again."

Cecil looked down at his dark skin. "Why am I Anna Kournikova?"

"I don't know," Thang said. "You look like you'd wear a tennis dress in your spare time."

Cecil bit back the comment he wanted to make--he didn't even _like_ tennis! He had a job to do. "Well, if you'd like to see that," he said, forcing a smile, "be sure to look me up if you're ever in town again." Cecil slipped his hand into Thang's back pocket.

"Whoa there," Thang said, pulling back. "One: ew. Two: I know I called you Anna Kournikova, but you ain't that cute. Three: don't you think you're a little old for me, pal? Four: ew." He noticed Carlos at the front of his truck, pouring out his bottle of water. "Hey, what the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

"Grass," Carlos said. "Dry."

"It's fucking _dead_ , genius," Thang said, snatching the bottle from him. "Dammit," he muttered, finding it empty. He threw it to the ground. "I hope I never see you two again." He climbed into his truck and made a lot of noise pulling away.

"Yeah," Carlos said. "Us, too." He turned to Cecil then. "What do you mean you learned that from Steve Carlsberg?"

"Oh, uh... that's how he gave me the SD card with your video on it."

***

"This stuff is pretty nasty," Carlos said of the drug Steve had given him. "It won't be enough just to cut off the supply--the withdrawals would be brutal. I'll need to find a way to neutralize it instead."

"That's probably better anyway, right?" Cecil asked. "If you undo the drug's effect right away they'll figure out what's happening in their town faster than if it just wore off little by little."

"That's true," Carlos said. "Are you starting to care about this now?"

"I've been there," Cecil shrugged. "It was awful."

"We'll fix it," Carlos said. "I promise."

***

"Hey, Kevin, listen," Steve said one night over dinner. "I need to tell you something."

"Yes, Steve?" Kevin asked, folding his arms on the table and smiling expectantly. "What is it?"

"Well, uh.... Look, you have a... terrific attitude...."

"Thanks, friend!" Kevin said.

"Uh, yeah. You're welcome. But look, the thing is, if you ever... don't... feel positive towards everything, don't worry about it, and don't feel bad about it. It's, uh, normal. It's the way it's supposed to be."

"Steve, what are you--"

"And, uh, if things are ever... not great.... Uh, if things are ever awful, just--It's not your fault, Kevin. You didn't make them that way. You didn't let them get that way. You didn't have anything to do with it. It's not your fault."

"Are you all right, Steve?" Kevin asked, eyebrows knit over his smile.

"I'm fine, Kevin. I just want to make sure _you'll_ be all right. If anything happens."

"It's sweet of you to worry, but worry is--"

"Inefficient," Steve finished for him. "I know. Just, uh-- Yeah, you're right. Don't... don't worry about it."

***

As soon as the antidote was ready, Carlos and Cecil headed back to Desert Bluffs. They circled the town a bit until they spotted Steve's truck, and when he saw them, he abandoned his delivery and got in the car.

"Okay, what's the situation?" he asked.

"I can counteract the drug with minimal side-effects," Carlos said. "I have a keg in the back, highly concentrated. We add it to the water and everyone should be back to themselves in a matter of days. Do you know where the reservoir is and is it guarded?"

"Yes I do and no it isn't," Steve said. "Complacent bunch like this, who would they be guarding it from?"

***

They made the drop and now the rest was up to Desert Bluffs.

"It's not that far," Carlos said to Steve. "If anything big happens we should hear about it, and if not we can probably get exist visas again and come check on things."

"Exit visas?" Steve repeated. "You need an exit visa to leave Night Vale?"

"You have a lot of things to catch up on," Carlos said. "See the laptop on the seat next to you? Turn it on and watch the video on the desktop. Also, don't touch my boyfriend's ass again."

"Don't what?"

***

It was surreal watching himself in an interview he didn't remember, talking about things he also didn't remember. At least he'd been thorough.

"So the place I'm going isn't much better than the place I just left," Steve said when the video was finished. "And they don't even want me there anymore. So why am I going back again?"

"Honestly?" Carlos said. "Because your ex-wife doesn't want to be a single mom."

"For my daughter, then," Steve said. "All right. I can live with that."

***

They were back in town and almost back to Steve's house when Cecil spotted Steve's truck.

"Hey, look, Stella's working," he said. "Carlos, we should--"

"On it, Cece," Carlos said, pulling over. He turned toward the backseat. "Steve, your daughter's in that house. Do you want to see her?"

"I--Yes!" Steve said, face lighting up. He almost forgot to unbuckle his seat belt in his hurry to get out of the car.

"That was nice of you, babe," Carlos said.

Cecil shrugged. "Stella will be happy to see him."

Steve nearly rushed the door, but from what he'd heard in the video and from Carlos and Cecil on the drive over, the pest control industry was especially dangerous in Night Vale, and he didn't want to distract her if she was in the middle of something. His caution was warranted; when Stella emerged from the house she was wearing a welding mask and holding a blowtorch. She spotted him at the end of the walk and flipped back the mask.

"Dad?"

"Hello sweetheart."

"Dad!" She nearly dropped the blowtorch, but remembered at the last moment to put it down gently instead. The mask she did throw, and she ran into Steve's arms. "Dad, you're back! Are you all right? Do you remember me?"

"I'm all right, Stella," he said, stroking her hair. "I don't remember everything. I don't know what I'll eventually remember and what I never will, but I do remember you." He pulled back to look at her. "So they told me I'm an exterminator." He gestured toward the truck. "Do you think you can teach me how to use all this stuff?"

"Of course, Dad," Stella said.

***

Bella knew she'd be called in eventually--or maybe just brought in, like a common citizen. Rather than waiting for that to happen, she showed up at the Sheriff's office on her own.

"I'm sure you've heard that Steve Carlsberg is back in town," she said. "And that he's staying. I assume you know I was involved and that you have a punishment prepared for me. So what is it? Banishment? Death? Either way, I'm sure you know I'll be back. You know I know how."

"You seem pretty confident about that, STCRTFB," the Sheriff said, hands folded on his desk. "It's almost as if you've forgotten that we specialize in making people forget."

Bella smiled. "Try me."

***

"And long story short, I'm the new Sheriff!"

"How wonderful for you," Steve said dryly from where he lay strapped to a table.

"Thanks," Bella said, examining an electrode. "But don't expect me to go easy on you."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Steve said. "Say, while you're taking things out, is there any chance you could put a few things back in?"

"You seem to have remembered plenty on your own," Bella said. "We're still working on the full wipe, you know. Not nearly as effective as a good, concentrated erasure. It couldn't hurt to see what I can put back, though. Well, I mean, it  _will_ hurt, Steven. You know that. But I will try."

"Thanks, Bella."

"Any time, Steven."

A buzzing sound filled the room.


End file.
